Death Match, page 5
part #6 of Sulan Series
Circling above the city are drones. Smoking canisters fall to the streets below.
It’s not just in San Francisco. Chicago. Manhattan. Seattle. Los Angeles. Dallas. Huston. Tampa.
City after city is attacked, the white plumes from the canisters staining the sky with smoky trails of white. Pneumonic plague is being spread like flees throughout all major cities in America.
People flee through the streets, trying to find shelter from the virus. I watch a merc with a gas mask get overrun by a knot of refugees. I see three teenagers take down an elderly woman with a white hospital mask over her face. Images of riots and stampeding people fill the screens around me.
Mr. Winn has unveiled Project Renascentia. His modified pneumonic plague, which he secretly tested over the past few months, has been unleashed on the public at large. And though no one is yet sick, everyone has seen the footage of the isolated refugee camps that were first attacked with the plague. Those had been the testing grounds for my father’s vaccine so Mr. Winn and his army would be protected against the virus.
And the rest of the world sits by and watches.
We find several screens with foreign rulers, all of them talking about the takeover and what it might mean for their future. No one speaks of coming to our aid.
“This is it,” Billy murmurs beside me. “Mr. Winn’s end game. It was right in front of me the whole time and I missed it. He’s attacking everywhere simultaneously.”
“Was it our broadcast?” The thought weighs me down. “We exposed Mr. Winn and he retaliated?”
“No.” Billy shakes his head. “This attack was planned a long time ago. Our broadcast may have been the catalyst, but this”—he gestures to the vast Vex space, where footage of chaos and death circle us in 360 degrees— “this has been in the works for a long time.”
The face of Mr. Winn fills every screen. Not the real-world Mr. Winn in his grotesque, garish jumpsuits, but his avatar form. He wears an olive green suit, green cowboy hat, and a monocle. His seamed face and gray hair give him a grandfatherly look, though a person only needs to look into his eyes to know there isn’t an ounce of grandfatherly kindness to be found.
“America,” he booms, “there has been a lot of chatter over the last seventy-two hours about my role in the League attacks that have graced our nation over the past few years. I’m here to set the record straight. I, Reginald Winn, am the leader of the organization knows as the League.”
Collective gasps go up around us.
“Now that have we cleared up that matter, we can move onto important issues,” Mr. Winn says. “Today is a grand day. It marks the reincarnation of our nation. Today, we undergo a cleansing. When we emerge, we will no longer be the United States of America. We will be a new nation, a stronger nation. We will be the kingdom of New America. Those elite forces chosen to protect our borders will henceforth be known as the New American Protection League.
“The cleansing was directed at the largest cities, where overpopulation is concentrated. For those of you in more rural areas outside the attack zones, I sincerely hope you survive. For those who do, I, Reginald Winn, will usher you into a golden era of greatness.
“Europe saw its golden age—its Renaissance—after the Black Plague swept across the continent and devoured twenty-five million people. Out of this darkness came the steam engine. The printing press. The telescope. Magnetic compass. Microscope. Flush toilets. Eye glasses. None of this greatness would have graced the world without the sacrifices of the Black Plague.
“No longer will our country be weighed down by overpopulation and bureaucracy. No longer will we look backward to a time before the Default. We will look forward to a new era. A new kingdom. Those who survive will be part of New America’s greatness.
“I advise you not to fight this transition. Accept your fate. Open your hearts to a new golden age. You may call me King Reginald the First.”
He smiles, the monocle resting in the half moon of skin above his cheekbone. Behind him is the American flag. As we watch, the familiar stars and stripes fade away. Replacing them is an orange flame on a field of black.
“For those of you who will not go quietly into the night, my soldiers are here to help you along.”
Mr. Winn disappears. Replacing him is footage of the battle waging on the lawn of the White House. Bodies are strewn on the dry grass. The blood is fresh, glistening under the sun.
The mercs in navy blue are relentless in their attack. Many of them wear cameras; the feed constantly rotates, showing new gore every thirty seconds.
For the first time, I notice the uniforms don’t bear the emblem on the Anti-American League. Rather, the flame of New America emblazons the right breast of every jumpsuit. Their white SmartPlastic masks serve to amplify the terror of their attack.
Mr. Winn returns to the screen, smiling serenely while the flag of New America ripples behind him. “Join me,” he says. “Together, we will build a better world.”
“I should have seen this coming,” Billy murmurs. “A coup. This was his plan from the beginning. I—”
He freezes, lifting his wrist. A red light blinks in the arm of his avatar.
“What is it?” I ask, reading alarm in the way he straightens.
“No time to explain.” He grabs my arms, muttering something too soft for me to hear. We leave News360, sucked away into the blue of Vex.
*
We materialize in a library. The room is long and narrow, rising at least three stories high. A rolling ladder stretches to the uppermost shelf, providing access to the most remote volumes.
“Where are we?”
Billy doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs a tablet off the wall. His fingers fly over the screen.
I scan the spines of the books, looking for the titles. Instead of names, each book is embossed with a golden number. The tombs appear to be shelved in numerical order.
I reach for volume seventy-two, curious as to what it contains. Are these stories? Data vessels?
“Don’t touch that.” Billy doesn’t look up from the tablet as he speaks. “Each one of those is booby-trapped.”
My hand drops, leaving the book untouched. I want to ask more questions, but the intent look on Billy’s face keeps me silent.
A third avatar materializes in the library. Unlike us, her avatar resembles her real-world body, albeit in an outfit she’d never wear. She’s in a chainmail dress and four-inch heels, her spiky red hair capping a lean, freckled face.
Hank.
She melts into Billy, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder. The tablet clatters to the floor as Billy holds her. In the real-world, he’s only a few inches taller than Hank; his generic avatar is shorter, which makes Hank hunch over as she embraces him.
The sound of her tears makes my eyes sting in the real-world. I cross the room, wanting to comfort my friend. I rub her back, even though she can’t feel my touch in Vex.
“I should have left with you,” she murmurs into Billy’s shoulder. “I should have taken my family and left with you.”
Billy just squeezes her.
My heart breaks for her. How much does she know? How much has she seen?
When she raises her head, blinking wet eyes to look around, she sees me. “Sulan?” At my nod, she detaches from Billy and throws herself at me.
We embrace. I take comfort from the hug, even if I can’t feel it. I’ve missed my friend.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispers.
“You, too,” I reply.
Hank pulls back, wiping at her eyes. “I’ve missed hanging out in your vault,” she says to Billy.
He smiles. “Yeah. Me, too.”
His vault? I take another look around. Is this Billy’s Collusion Underground vault?
Suddenly, the thousands of books make sense. So do the fact that they are all booby trapped. This is where Billy and Uncle Zed catalogued and stored all the intel they hunted down in Vex.
“What’s going on in the Dome?” Billy asks Hank. “Are you okay?”
“Mr. Winn announced the founding of New America,” she whispers. “We’ve seen all the footage of the drone attacks. He brought new mercenaries in during the middle of the night. These new soldiers—they’re not American. He built an overseas army and brought them here, promising them land in exchange for their sworn loyalty.” She pauses to swallow. “It was a bloodbath.”
I feel sick.
“What sort of bloodbath?” Billy asks. “Who—?”
“There’s no time,” Hank says, shaking her head. “I was taken to the Fortress in case Mr. Winn needed me for a broadcast. I took a Vex set when no one was looking.” Her eyes flick between the two of us. “The Fortress is overflowing with the New American soldiers. A team of them is in charge of the drone deployment. I was able to hack the frequency. There’s another wave of drones going out in the next hour.” She turns to Billy. “You have to stop them. More people are going to die. You have to help.” Her voice breaks.
“I’ll take care of it. Give me the data.” Billy picks up the tablet and holds it out to her.
Hank taps her finger against the tablet. The tip of her index finger lights up. Code pours from her fingertip into the tablet.
“I have to go,” she whispers. “If they find out I went into Vex—if they know I stole the frequency—”
I know how much this costs Hank. All her life, she has put her family first. She has sacrificed everything to provide for them. Now she’s putting everything on the line to save more people and cities from being decimated by the plague.
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Go back to your family. Don’t risk yourself anymore.”
She nods. “You guys be careful. I hope I see you again someday.”
“Be safe,” I say.
“I love you,” Billy says.
“I love you, too.” When Hank speaks, her eyes take in both of us. Then she disappears.
Billy stares at the spot where Hank stood. The look in his eyes makes me ache for him. His love for Hank is painted in every angle of his face.
Billy shakes himself, shifting his focus to his tablet. “I have to bring down the drones. You have to wake Gun. Find out if Anderson Arms is still standing. They’re our only hope.”
6
Crazy Carson
“We need to talk to my dad.” Gun, despite looking like he might collapse or vomit—maybe both—pushes himself into a standing position.
Waking him had not been easy. It wasn’t until I shouted in his ear and slapped his shoulder several times—hard—that he finally woke up. Even now, he doesn’t look one hundred percent steady. I put out an arm to him, but he waves me off.
“Are you sure you saw Anderson Arms being attacked by plague drones?” he asks.
I nod, throat tight. Not only do I want Gun’s family to be safe, but we need Anderson Arms intact if we are to have any chance of defeating Mr. Winn.
At the desk, Billy pushes his Vex set onto his forehead. His breath rasps through his gas mask, as if he’s just run hard.
“Got the plague drones,” he says. “Crashed them into the Pacific Ocean. Dozens of them, all bound for the East Bay, Silicon Valley, and Central Coast.”
“What are you talking about?” Gun asks.
“Billy just saved thousands of people,” I reply.
“Hank saved thousands people,” Billy corrects. “She got me the drone frequency.”
Both of us understand how much Hank risked to get this information to us. What will happen if Mr. Winn finds out?
I can’t think that way. Hank is smart. She’ll cover her tracks. She’ll be okay.
Won’t she?
“I’m going back to Collusion Underground to see what I can find out about the mountain men while you guys check on Anderson Arms,” Billy says.
“Will our bodies be safe here if all three of us go into Vex at the same time?” I ask.
Billy nods. “We have an intrusion detection system. If someone tries to break in, we’ll be warned.” He pulls on his vex set, leaving me and Gun alone.
“Let’s go.” I give his forearm a squeeze, seeing the worry in his eyes.
If the worst has happened, I don’t want him to face it alone.
*
“You’re safe.” Nate, materializing in Vex, sags with relief at the sight of Gun. “I was worried about you, bro. Maia and your mother have been climbing the walls. Your dad . . .” Nate swallows. “Let’s just say his temper has reached epic proportions.”
We stand in a simple Vex cube, the unadorned walls made of blue marble. Nate isn’t the only one sagging with relief. Gun strides up and seizes his avatar in a fierce hug. Judging by the startled expression on Nate’s face, this isn’t a normal action for Gun. But he returns the embrace, slapping Gun on the shoulder.
“Good thing you got us the vaccine intel when you did, bro. Your dad put it into immediate production. The lab has been running ‘round the clock. Half of the compound had been vaccinated when the attack started. The other half is being kept inside while more vaccine is being made. A few are sick, but they were the first to receive the new batches of vaccine. Everyone is okay.”
“The Dread Twins?” Gun asks.
“They’ve been vaccinated. I sent a drone to them with vaccine.”
“Good. Thanks for taking care of that.”
“No prob. They’re part of the team.” Nate cocks his head. “Everyone is talking about Dr. Hom. Word has gotten around that he developed the vaccine. I know the lab could use his expertise. It would boost morale, too. Everyone is scared.”
“We’re going to get him and the others and bring them back to Anderson Arms,” Gun says. “What did you find out about the mountain men?”
Nate pulls a tablet off the wall and opens several files. The first of them contains pictures of an old oil refinery. It’s clear from the crumbled state of the smoke stacks and buildings that it’s been abandoned for years, probably since the Default.
“This is Kenton oil refinery,” Nate says. He scrolls through the pictures, letting us take in the dilapidated structures. “It was closed thirty years ago and abandoned.” He opens another file, bringing up pictures of a handsome man with dark hair and a wide smile. “Fast forward twenty years and meet Leo Carson, a Global Arms mercenary. He’d developed quite a reputation for sadistic pursuits. I’ll spare you the pictures of the mutilated animals the Dread Twins dug up.” He glances at Gun. “They said to tell you they’re going to have a big expense report this month. The intel they got on Leo Carson wasn’t cheap.”
Gun waves a dismissive hand. “They know I don’t care about that. I always approve them, even when there are questionable charges.”
“Just passing along the message, bro. Anyway, Global started sending him on black ops mission. He got caught having a little too much fun with prisoners on some of those missions. After an incident involving a young mother from Tennessee, the Winns fired him. Cats and rats and dogs were one thing, but when his predilections transferred to humans . . .” Nate shakes his head. “Leo Carson became known as Crazy Carson. After he was fired from Global, he disappeared. Until now.”
Crazy Carson. I frown. Why does that name sound familiar?
Nate opens the last file. What I see turns my stomach.
A crude stadium has been carved into the earth. The walls are sheer dirt drop offs mangled with torn chunks of concrete slabs. Nate scrolls through pictures that show people in states of battle. Usually it’s one-on-one fights, but there are a number of group fights. Sometimes people have knives, sticks, or other handheld weapons. Sometimes they fight with their bare hands.
Whatever the case, it’s clear the battles are to the death. There’s a picture of a man strangled to death; of a woman with her throat nothing more than a bloody, pulpy mess; and an elderly man stabbed in the gut with a thick branch.
“This is an arena in Kenton refinery,” Nate says. “Carson has named his community New Oleum. The arena is used for gladiator fights that are broadcast in Vex.” His face twists. “You would not believe the cost of tickets. And the betting that goes on. Leo Carson is rich.”
“Let me guess,” Gun says. “The fighters are forcefully recruited from remote refugee camps.”
“You guessed it. And look at this.” Nate focuses in on the live crowd gathered above the edge of the arena. There are thick clusters of men and women dressed in furs and leathers—just like the people who kidnapped Dad and the others.
Nate zooms in on a balcony that overlooks the arena. And there is Leo Carson, presiding over the fights to the death taking place below him. He’s older in this picture, his hair turned to a rich salt-and-pepper tousle. He wears the same wide, congenial grin he had in the other pictures I saw of him, only this time, that eerie grin is focused on the murder taking place at his feet.
“He’s smiling like he’s enjoying a good meal, not watching people fight to the death,” I say.
“Yeah. He isn’t called Crazy Carson for nothing. New Oleum is his. The people in the animal skins are his. He calls his soldiers Recruiters. They keep his arena stocked with fighters.”
And that’s where Dad and the others have been taken. Taro. The idea of him in that arena makes me sick. That he could fight and survive, I have no doubt. But I’ve seen the look in his eyes when he’s forced to kill. He loses a piece of himself every time.
I have to get him out of there.
And what about Dad and Agnus? Aston, Mom, and Maxwell can all fend for themselves, but Dad and Agnus are another story. They’ll be shredded.
“There’s one other thing you need to know.” Nate’s eyes flick between me and Gun. “Before Crazy Carson’s exploits at Global were exposed, he had a girlfriend. A Global Arms scientist. From everything we’ve been able to find, their relationship was serious.”
_preview.jpg)
